A Castle Crumbling
by eyrianone
Summary: He has to get her out of his system somehow . . . Post-episode aftermath for 'The Limey' - and going AU from there.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **A Castle Crumbling

**Author:** eyrianone

**Rating:** M

**Spoilers:** Post-Ep 'The Limey'

**Summary:** He has to get her out of his system somehow . . .

**Disclaimer:** (From ViaLethe) – 'Words are mine. World ain't.'

**A/N: There was a very lively debate going on via Twitter last night – those who think Castle slept with the 'stewardess' versus those who don't think he did. I personally don't think he went anywhere near her with a ten foot pole 'sexually' – so of course I then wrote this as if he did – yeah I can't work that one out either - go figure. And pre-emptive FYI - like I don't know guys don't usually angst over stuff like this - I'm in my early forties, married with teenage sons so there are plenty of men in my life - but this is a work of fiction and shoot me if I'm a romantic in my heart! **

* * *

ecrum·ble

_v._ **crum·bled**, **crum·bling**, **crum·bles**

**1. **To fall into small fragments or particles; disintegrate.

**2. **To give way; collapse: an ego that crumbles under pressure.

* * *

She's waiting for him as he leaves the Twelfth, the Ferrari idling and as he smiles at her – slips into the seat beside her – he hears what he just told Beckett again in his head.

_She's fun and uncomplicated . . . I think that's what my life needs right now._

He tries not to notice that he's sad it isn't a lie – because he's had about as much of maddening, challenging and frustrating as he can take.

The blonde stewardess looks over at him slyly, her painted red mouth pursed 'just-so' and then she slides her hand over from the steering wheel to his knee, trails her fingertips slowly and deliberately up his leg until she's at the top of his thigh.

"Where do you want to go Rick?" She purrs at him – and its welcome he realizes - a message that's so shockingly clear – so blatantly inviting. She wants him and she isn't making the slightest hint of an attempt to hide it, it's on display, clear and undisguised and unmistakable.

It's heady – he can't help it. She isn't the woman he wants – she isn't the woman he's in love with. but she wants him - and he's human - and he needs that.

_God help him - but he does._

It's just been _so_ long . . .

Castle takes a deep breath, doesn't allow himself to stop or pause and debate what he's about to do, he just lets her desire for him soak into his skin from where her fingertips are still making patterns on his thigh. He could fake a pretext – they could continue this charade with dinner, but he's had it with concealing his needs, and sick to death of denying them.

He could just take her home . . . .?

_Oh no. Too much of Kate lives there. _

"How about the plaza?" He says decisively, smiling calculatingly at the blonde, trying it on again - all that twinkling magnetic blue eyes, handsome face and white teeth.

And Jacinda smiles back – the way women usually do - the way he'd forgotten they usually do.

And suddenly it's as easy as it's always been it seems . . . all he's got to do is just get back in the saddle.

* * *

He hasn't stayed at the plaza in years, but the desk clerk still recognizes him – and his preference in a suite. He could hate that but it makes this easier - too easy maybe – its like a riding a bike.

By the time they reach the door her lipstick is all over his face and her tongue is in his mouth and if she tastes wrong, and feels wrong and she doesn't make the right noises . . . at least he's aroused enough he can pretend as if his heart doesn't notice.

* * *

They don't make it as far as the bed.

The suite is lit by little more than a courtesy lamp on the dark mahogany nightstand – and that works for him – makes everything about her darker and more exciting and more like . . . he ruthlessly stops his mind in the middle of going there - rips open the blonde's blouse instead.

Silences her giggle with his mouth, ravages and claims and suddenly its better because now she's whimpering . . . and oh he likes that – the need.

Her hands are swift - deft on his belt buckle and he returns the favor with her bra, snapping the front clasp with expert fingers and palming her flesh instantly. Warm and yielding and if it burns at his senses that the mounds are too large and too fake, at least the fire burning now in his blood is hot enough to still consume him.

He stops looking then – closes it out – lets his body have the control - goes back to kissing her brutally so that she won't notice.

She palms him through his boxers and he hisses – thankful - at least that is real, potent - undeniably good. Spurs him on – stokes him higher, his eyes might still be closed but he hitches her up the wall his long fingers seeking her as he pushes the damp fabric of her underwear aside.

Shouldn't he know how long it's been since a woman was wet for him?

"Rick." She murmurs breathlessly as he attacks the column of her neck with his lips and his tongue. "Rick – please." _Shut up! _He has to kiss her again just to silence it . . . whimpers and moans and gasps of pleasure he welcomes - but not his name . . . not that . . .not when it should only be whispers of 'Castle . . . please - Castle' instead.

Jacinda bites his lower lip and hooks her legs around him – and he pretends he doesn't notice how much better the fit would be if she were taller.

He has to take her then – just do it – just get this over with – needs to let that physical release undo him, so suddenly there's a condom in his hand, and he's sheathing himself; uncaring that his heart is burning with shame - figuratively going up in flames inside him.

But isn't it better this way? Maybe the fire within can purify him.

Maybe this is the only way . . . burn out the idea of Kate – eradicate her.

Still - he has no choice but to bite the blonde on the shoulder - purely to keep the name 'Kate' off of his lips as pushes inside her.

_Fuck._ So wrong – it's all wrong - badly wrong . . . _Oh God. H_e hates that he needs this - has no words for how much he despises that in spite of everything it feels . . . so damn _good._

_Oh God . . . does it ever._

Yet he hates everything about his inability to prevent this - including the weakness that means it isn't going to last long.

But still - he's large, he's powerful and he's experienced - so she'll come before him.

It's bad, because they shouldn't be - but his thrusts are deep and strong . . . if not true.

Jacinda's head hits the wall behind her on a muted scream as she flutters wildly all around him, her body arched and helpless in his arms.

And Castle hovers for a moment caught in time – trapped between the crippling emotional pain of this and the mind-numbing physical pleasure.

And yes – it fractures his heart when the pleasure wins and he spills reluctantly within her – fully aware the dying echoes of another woman's name have been ripped from his core into the space around them.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I wasn't going to add anything to this – but a certain person (coughs – Purplangel – coughs) wanted more – I'm not sure if it's finished now or if I need to have Kate come and rescue him/fix it/ I have no idea what this even is – it just came out.**

**A nod to 'Andrew Belle' is included.  
**

* * *

In all his life he doesn't think he's ever been quite so ashamed. He closes his eyes against all of it for a moment – but behind his shuttered lids everything just replays and so he takes a steadying breath and faces reality again with as much quiet apology on his face as he can muster. He risks looking down at her but Jacinda just unwinds her legs from around his waist, lowering them to the floor and she very studiously doesn't look up at him. Instead she pushes lightly against his chest and he steps back away from her with his knees trembling – whether that's from the after effects of vigorous vertical sex or just a physical manifestation of his guilt – at the moment he really couldn't say.

The pretty blonde stewardess slips silently past him and heads into the suites expansive bathroom – the door closes with a soft snick behind her that still somehow manages to sound like a 'boom' in the dead silence of the dimly lit hotel room.

His face flames.

He'd like to clean up too but hell, he's isn't going to intrude on her right now – not after what just happened – so he tucks himself back inside his underwear and zips the front of his jeans closed.

The novelist runs his hands through his hair, mussing it further as he actually tries to tame it, before he wanders aimlessly over to the room's king-sized bed letting his knees finally give out as he sinks shakily down onto the counterpane, his head falling into his hands as he leans forward on his knees.

What has he done?

For heaven's sake he just fucked a sweet woman he barely knows and then screamed another woman's name at her when he climaxed.

He groans softly.

That's just . . . indefensible.

But this wasn't supposed to be about the broken disaster that is his relationship with Beckett – tonight was supposed to be about having some fun with someone who actually wants to be with him. Someone he thought he wanted to be with too – he really did – she's a lovely girl and it isn't her fault that he compares every woman to Kate Beckett. None of this is her fault at all – so how could he do this to her – what in the hell is he trying to prove to himself here anyway?

Maybe he'd feel better if he truly didn't know, but he isn't that good at hiding from himself anymore and the truth is he does know the answers – they are there in his head whether he wants them to be or not, and after what he just allowed to happen – its apparently past time he faced the truths behind his recent behavior.

_He's been trying to prove that he can turn it off. That he can still be the man he once was. And that Kate doesn't have ownership of his heart._

Except of course that he can't – that's now quite obvious; and he isn't – in fact he hasn't been that man for a very long time, and she does –clearly - she owns it, both his heart and maybe more importantly his soul.

He belongs to her – and she's broken him.

And after what he just did he's _got_ to face it – before he lets all this angry hurt inside him slip out like this again , damaging someone else the way he just damaged Jacinda.

Because he's been poisoned by this love. And now he's toxic.

And nothing like what happened tonight can ever be permitted to happen again.

He's not opposed to casual sex or uncommitted relationships – hell no-strings recreation can be amazing – he knows this. But both parties' have to be on the same page – and he can't separate right now who he really wants from who can actually have. He may never be able to do that – but he can damn well ensure no one else pays for it.

The bathroom door re-opens and the pretty blonde is silhouetted in the doorway, the light from the bathroom radiating out from behind her effectively hiding her face and yet presenting her to him like some kind of avenging angel.

Castle cringes.

He stares at the floor in front of him cursing himself for not being brave enough right now to meet her eyes, but the apology he knows she's owed is already falling from his lips.

"That shouldn't have happened – I'm so, so sorry."

He waits, for her to get angry, or upset, but he can't tear his stubborn guilty eyes from the patterns on the carpet in front of him.

He isn't expecting it when the bed next to him dips under her slight weight and he feels the gentle warmth of her next to him.

"I want to hate you right now." She confesses to him quietly, and he risks a glance sideways at her, notices she's not looking at him but instead gazing at the carpet in the same fashion he was. Her hands sit limply in her lap and her screws up his courage – reaches out his large tanned hand and grips her slender fingers with his.

"I'm an asshole – I don't blame you." He whispers, his gaze sliding up to her face and it stabs him in the heart when he detects traces of tears there.

"You are." She agrees. "But you're a broken hearted one – and that doesn't make it alright Rick, but . . . I mean I've been there."

Her blues finally look up into his, and the empathy he sees swimming in them is miraculously soothing.

"I like you." He blurts out, and it's awkward and apologetic – but true.

Jacinda shrugs. "I like you too. I'm just sorry you're in love with her."

Castle studies her face, he can see the effort it's costing her not to hit him or rage at him, and he marvels at how composed she's managing to remain, at how she's deliberately choosing to make this easier on him.

"I took advantage of you – it's unforgivable." He says brokenly.

She twists her fingers inside of his, wriggling them so she's holding his hand instead.

"No. I wanted you – I mean who wouldn't – that's not taking advantage Rick." She says with quiet authority. "But I'm not going to lie to you and say hearing you calling for her as you're coming inside me wasn't a miserable experience. You weren't with me at all really – you were stuck someplace in your head with her instead."

Castle nods.

"She's in my veins." His head drops down onto his chest. "And God knows I wish she wasn't – but I can't get her out."

The stewardess squeezes his fingers again.

"I don't know why I'm not just leaving – why I'm even asking you this – except that it might be easier somehow to know. What happened between you?"

He doesn't look up.

"Tell me." Jacinda prompts. "I think considering what just occurred between us that the least you owe me is an explanation Rick Castle."

He shakes his head – he can't. He doesn't believe he knows how.

"Try – please." And it's the beseeching quality her soft voice has taken on that gets to him.

She's honestly trying to understand him. And maybe she's doing that simply for her own peace of mind or just because she wants to be able to put this whole occurrence behind her with as little damage to her self-esteem as possible. Which one it is doesn't matter. All that matters is that she's right. He owes her an explanation, owes her the truth spoken aloud even if uttering it is so hard a thing to do that the thought of it crushes him.

"She doesn't love me but I'm addicted to her." It comes out in a messy rush – like he's throwing up.

She's a sickness.

This is the truth.

And once the truth has been spoken he's freer – so he tries to explain. "She's in every word inside my head; she's every story my mind can dream up. But she is a dream - just a fantasy and I don't _want_ to live this way. I want a choice – I swear I thought until tonight that I still had one."

There's a gentle squeeze on his fingers again.

"You do. You might have to give it space and time – but you do."

Considering everything – it's incredibly sweet and a testament to her character that she's trying to reassure him.

He doesn't need the platitudes though – his illusions are all gone now.

Castle shakes his head, looks at her steadily and he can read it when she sees his reality there in his eyes. She gasps and her pale blue eyes fill with tears – for him – for the magnitude of his loss, his inability to separate himself in any way from the ideal he's held so long of 'them'.

"I'm sorry." He says closing the small distance between them as he lets his forehead come to rest against hers. "I'm so, so sorry I dragged you into this."

Her free hand cups his face – the tips of her fingers brushing into his hair, and he marvels again at her sweet gentle nature when she turns her head to kiss him on the cheek.

"You didn't mean to hurt me – I know that Rick." She says it gently and sincerely, a tremulous, tiny smile on her lovely face.

He shakes his head forcefully – pulling backwards and away.

"I don't deserve such easy forgiveness." He growls. "I used you."

They're silent for a long moment, before he feels her hand slide down his arm, squeezing his elbow.

"You deserve to be loved as much as you have the capacity to love." She tells him gently. "Stop punishing yourself for falling for her – falling in love - it isn't a choice."

She smiles a watery smile at him and then pushes up from the bed.

"I'm gonna go." She tells him.

Castle pushes to his feet too.

"You'll be okay getting home?" He questions.

Jacinda nods.

"Of course. I'll be fine."

She gathers her belongings and then she turns back to face him when she reaches the door of the hotel room, biting on her lip and clearly debating what – if anything she should say before she departs.

"Rick – I meant it. Please stop punishing yourself – there's honestly no real damage done."

She leaves then and he stares after her, lost, alone and suffering. Because he's glad she's okay – so glad - but he knows she's also wrong.

Real damage _has_ been done – and he's the one who's crumbling.


	3. Chapter 3

The trill of her cell phone going off is something that under normal circumstances wakes Kate Beckett up quickly. Years and years of late night/early morning calls to body drops have honed her reactions to the point that the phone ringing pulls her instantly from fast asleep to wide awake.

Not tonight though.

She's not on call for the next twenty-four and after drinks with Detective Inspector Hunt that turned into her spilling her guts about all her troubles with Castle over way too many vodkas and now she's having one hell of time emerging from what were quite awful dreams and transitioning back into the land of the living.

Her mouth tastes awful and is as dry as the Mohave Desert, and she has a pounding headache that is going to require large doses of aspirin.

Forcing herself to roll over, Beckett glances at her nightstand where her cell phone is going off again for the third time now – someone obviously wants to get hold of her pretty bad. Squinting against the faint but annoying light being emitted by the iphone as it rings, she reaches over to grab it – grimacing when she sees the caller ID 'Castle-home'..

He hurt her badly earlier tonight – or actually early last evening, because it's . . . 4.30am in the morning now and she doesn't really want to talk to him, not when he was going out on his fourth date in three days with blondie - but it's Castle and she loves him, so she answers anyway.

She doesn't want to damage their suddenly fragile relationship any further – and her not picking up would do that.

"What do you want Castle?" She mumbles into the phone.

There's a pause.

"Castle?"

If he's drunk dialling her – he's so dead.

"Detective Beckett?"

Kate sits upright in her bed so fast her head literally spins.

"Alexis?" She asks.

"Yeah." Her partner's daughter replies. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

She doesn't sound the least bit sorry in point of fact, and Kate closes her eyes on a small sigh of despair. She once thought she had a pretty good relationship with Alexis – not a close one - but there was a level of respect between them – it seems that respect has crumbled on Alexis' side and it's one more issue Kate doesn't want to deal with – the reason why that's changed.

So she mumbles the expected platitude.

"It's okay."

There's another pregnant pause over the line.

"I did wake you though didn't I?" Alexis asks, and her voice sounds different to Kate now, less bite and more – worry.

"Yes but . . . "

Kate doesn't get to finish.

"I can't find Dad." Alexis blurts out. "He hasn't come home tonight."

The statement makes Kate feel sick. If he hasn't gone home then he's most likely still out with- blondie, and that probably means . . . yeah okay she doesn't want to go there. Can't.

"I assume you've tried his cell phone before you tried mine?" She manages to ask.

"Of course. He isn't picking up – and that's something he usually never does. I thought maybe you'd been called to a crime scene – but then I've woken you up so . . . do you know where he is?"

No. And right now she _so _does not wanna know. Shaking her head in the dark she tries to find words to calm Alexis that don't rip her heart out as she's forced to say them.

"He left the precinct around seven – he had a date." She says diplomatically.

"With the bimbo stewardess?" Alexis asks heatedly.

_Ouch._

"With Jacinda yes." Beckett replies, feeling guilty now when she hears Alexis snarkily talking in stereotypes - that she's been thinking of blondie in that exact same vein. Castle genuinely seems to like the woman and she did have an insight into their last case – just because she's blonde, a stewardess and dating the man Kate's in love with – yeah so she's trying to not let that influence her. Unsuccessfully.

"Well he hasn't come home and I can't get a hold of him. Do you know where they went – do you even know anything about this woman?"Alexis is beginning to sound more and more upset and really, what is Kate supposed to say here?

"Not much no. And I'm sorry Alexis – but I have no idea what his plans with Jacinda were. I mean . . ." Oh this is going to hurt so much. "Maybe he's just – you know – spending the night with her."

Alexis doesn't respond immediately.

"Dad – Dad doesn't do that anymore." She says quietly.

"Yeah well he seems to have had a relapse." Kate bites out before she can stop herself.

There's along silence again.

"He always lets me know if he's going to be gone for the night." Alexis says firmly. "I'm worried about him Kate – what if something has happened to him?"

This entire conversation is now killing Beckett, and then she notices that Alexis has dropped the 'Detective Beckett' routine she's always had going on and finally called her 'Kate'. It stops the response she was going to give the girl dead in its tracks. Suddenly 'and what has any of this got to with me' becomes, "What would you like me to do Alexis?"

"Find him for me – make sure he's okay. I can't shake the bad feeling I have Kate – and maybe he's just out . . . "

_Having sex - _Kate's brain supplies, a thought that stabs right through her – sends ice straight down her spine.

". . . with this woman." Alexis finishes. "But he should be home and he isn't and I'm worried. Please track him down for me Kate – I know you can do it."

Beckett is already out of bed.

"Okay." She says. "I'll call you when I find him."

There is genuine relief and gratitude in the teen's voice.

"Thanks Detective."

Kate hangs up.

Ten minutes later she's in her squad car, face bare, hair in a sloppy ponytail and a thin sweatshirt thrown on over her yoga pants. She heads for the precinct with growing trepidation – on some level not quite believing what it is she's about to do.

Because there are two fast ways for her to hunt him down.

Track his credit cards and get a GPS location on his phone.

He's a private citizen and she has no cause for alarm other than his daughter's frantic phone call – but though she's shaking as she requests what she needs she nevertheless has both sets of information by 5.30am – and it's just as her now shattered heart had feared – he's at the Plaza.

The tears that start when his phone location corresponds with a security deposit hold on his Amex card – completely take her unawares.

She feels like she's catching him in the act of cheating on her – a thought that's insanely ridiculous because its not as if he's ever truly been – hers. Except in her mind of course – somehow in there he has been 'hers' for what seems now like years.

Still the suddenness of the tears momentarily stun her – she's never cried over him sleeping with another woman before.

_Yeah but he's supposed to love me now._

The voice in her head taunts her with the truth she still refuses to acknowledge to him – and apparently that makes all the difference in the world.

So what does she do now?

Call the plaza and ask for his room, berate him if he answers for scaring his kid and breaking her heart while he was at it?

Go and confront him?

Just call Alexis and tell her that's where he is and leave it at that?

This is the smartest plan surely – her obligation to both of them satisfied. This is the easiest and most painless solution.

So why is she grabbing her car keys and heading out to do the dumbest thing she possibly can? Well because she wouldn't be Kate Beckett if she didn't always do things the hard way.

The drive to the Plaza is a total blur.

She doesn't acknowledge even to herself that it's because she's finding it hard to drive through a fresh avalanche of tears.

Because she isn't crying – she just isn't.

_She is._

By the time she reaches the reception desk in the Plaza hotel's opulent lobby her knees feel funny – she slaps her badge down on the desk with authority anyway – it gets her his room number – even gets her his key.

And if she perjured herself to obtain it and freaked the harried night clerk out while she was about it – what does that matter when she can already feel inside what she's about to find.

By the time she makes it to the suites door – she's managed the progression from shattered to angry – because dammit Castle – after everything they've been through – isn't she owed a little more than this?

And yet the key-card to the suite feels like it weighs a tonne in her hand – and she all at once cannot justify just sticking it into the lock and crashing in on the awfulness she sees so horribly in her mind.

However much she hates everything about this – hates how completely this is destroying her heart – she needs to knock first.

Her knuckles rap sharply on the shiny mahogany wooden door – no answer – she waits in silent agony – and tries again.

Same thing.

She ends up pounding and even throwing out there the phrase 'NYPD – open the door.'

And while several other doors on the floor open up in response to this - the door to Castle's room remains stubbornly closed – and she thinks maybe she's just missed him – maybe he's already left here and found his way home.

She should just call Alexis.

Her fingers close around her phone, but then she surprises herself - slips the key-card into the room's lock instead.

She slips inside like a thief.

And it's just outright weird what she finds.

The spacious hotel suite is dim even with dawn beginning to break outside and the first slivers of pale gold sunlight filtering through the pretty sheers covering the windows, Kate had assumed she'd find a now empty bed – and its empty alright – but she wasn't expecting it to be a neatly made.

Doesn't make any sense.

And then she hears it – the shower is running.

Her eyes close on a wave of desolate despair – she wants to leave – she wants to stay – and none of this is making any sense. A perfectly made bed - but a running shower?

So helplessly Kate wanders about the room. She can't come up with anything else to do now that she's come this far - but to wait.

Twenty minutes later the shower is still running - and running.

And dread is spreading through her that she cannot begin to try and explain - just her gut loudly insisting to her that something is very wrong.

So in the end she screws up every ounce of her courage, and opens the bathroom door – steam billows out before her in huge clouds – but through it as far as she can see the room looks empty.

Even behind the white shower curtain Kate can't see the shadow of person – until she moves to turn the running water off and she pulls the shower curtain aside.

And there he is.

Her breath leaves her.

Sitting in the tub Castle's curled around himself, his head buried on his bent knees, his strong arms wrapped around them as he tries to make himself smaller. He's rocking himself slightly, it freaks her out and the spray from the shower that's hitting him must be absolutely scalding – there are angry patches of reddened skin everywhere she can see . . . and he's naked.


	4. Chapter 4

Eventually her lungs are screaming so badly for oxygen that Kate's forced to suck in another breath. The steamy, humid air of the luxury bathroom is thick and cloying, but it wakes her up and she drags her reluctant eyes off of his mostly hidden naked form and stares diligently at the floor instead.

"Castle."

When he doesn't answer her, she takes the risk of looking back at him. He's just where he was. He hasn't moved – hasn't acknowledged her presence in the room with him at all. The writer just continues to rock himself that tiny little bit – it's barely movement even, and yet it's devastatingly disturbing to watch. He hasn't lifted his head and she cannot see his face but Kate gets the sense that he's completely oblivious both to her and to the fact that the incredibly hot water cascading over his body is actually hurting him.

It makes her knees tremble.

She can't see any obvious injury to him other than what could be first degree burns forming from the effect of the water against his skin. There's no blood, and no bruising evident anywhere she scans – but it's clear - to her at least anyway – that something very serious is nevertheless wrong with him.

Years of carefully honed police instincts kick in, and Beckett worries firstly that he's been drugged, but then as the steam continues to clear the room she spies his clothes piled in the far corner and an empty whiskey bottle that sits atop them. So maybe not drugged then – maybe he's just drunk – but either way his current location is not good for him.

Scanning his body again Kate can't help but admire the parts of him that she can see – no woman could. Those broad shoulders of his that fill out his impeccably tailored expensive suits so well – look even broader and stronger without his clothes. His back is muscled; the definition surprises her, as do the gorgeous heavy lines of the muscles in his arms.

She's always known he was handsome. And she fell in love with him because of the purpose and beauty that lie within his soul – it seems his naked physical form is destined to leave her breathless and aching. Even under these circumstances. She should have known.

The cop reaches out to touch him – she has to get him out of the hot water before this situation gets any worse. Placing her hand gently on his shoulder Kate winces herself as splashes of scalding heat beat against her fingers – and she shakes him slightly.

"Castle." She calls again.

The slight rocking of his form finally stills and for a moment it feels like she's comforting him – it's encouraging.

**"**Rick – can you hear me?" She asks gently, shaking his shoulder again, her hands sliding against his wet smooth skin as tingles of sensation streak through her that she absolutely fails to ignore.

God - how she wants him.

He doesn't answer her though and frustrated Kate reaches past him to at least shut the torrent of hot water off. The silence in the aftermath is deafening – but at least the cessation of the heat against his skin has the effect of rousing him.

It startles her when all of a sudden his head pops up – his sapphire eyes glassy and unfocused; they scan the room around him confused until they come to rest upon her – and then the unfocused quality disappears.

But the look that greets her is not one she would ever wish to become acquainted with – and the illusion that she's comforting him instantly disappears.**  
**

_Oh God._

In fact her eyes involuntarily fill with tears when he looks right into her, his face contorting with such a vast pain it totally terrifies, before he just drops his head back onto his knees and he growls at her.

"Go the fuck away."

He might just as well have slapped her – because he's never – ever - spoken to her in such a manner before.

And she's at sea as she scrambles to figure out what on earth is going on here.

"Castle . . . " She pleads.

He doesn't bother to reply he just leans forward again and his large hand reaches for the tap – and Kate realizes in a panic that he's aiming to turn the water back on, so she drops to her knees quickly beside the tub and grabs for his hand before he can manage it. She doesn't manage however to restrain him for long – and his strength amazes her when he very easily just throws her off – throws her away from him. And Kate finds herself falling backwards – until she lands painfully on her right side on the slippery tiled bathroom floor – winded.

Shaken she breathes rapidly for a moment, and then when she hears the water start up again – she's almost overwhelmed by the urge to just cry – but she doesn't give in to it – she can't. **  
**

She might not understand anything right now – but she's got to get through to him enough that she can get him out of there. Pushing herself up with determination, the beautiful detective tries once more to reach him by simply talking.

**"**Castle - stop it – please Rick the water is too hot . . . it's burning you."

But his only response is to reach for the shower curtain she had previously retracted and pull it between them again.

Effectively he's blocking her out.

"Get out." He says menacingly from behind the veil of it, before he simply falls silent again.

_As if! Is he stupid – does he not know her any longer at all?_

She finds herself rolling her eyes – he wants her to leave? Like that's going to happen. Instead Kate gets to her feet and grabs the offending piece of waterproof plastic that's separating them again, and this time she rips it down – damage be damned - she'll gladly pay for it later.

She detects a flinch in his shoulders but nothing more, and the writer stubbornly refuses to look up - steadfastly continues to ignore what she just did and pretend as if she isn't even there.

_Come on Castle!_

It feels like he's been doing an awful lot of that lately – coldly and calculatingly closing her out and she's done with it. Tired of it. Sick of his apparent indifference to her now.

She wants to yell at him - demand an answer from him for all the recent weeks of erratic behaviour he's subjected her too. She wants to know why he's here right now – where the hell Jacinda is. Why in God's name he's doing this?

Dammit she wants to know _everything_ about him – how she longs for that now.

"Look at me Castle." She says, her voice brittle when it comes out, but still somehow her customary air of authority manages to carry through – at least until he replies.

"But I'm so sick of _looking_ at you."

And then suddenly she has nothing whatever within her to say.

Silence, but for the renewed pounding of the water stretches endlessly between them – and Kate only comprehends right now - right this very instant just how far from her he's managed to slip away.

And with that realization comes another one – that she cannot go on behaving as she has been any longer – and she cannot go on concealing what she feels. If she is destined to lose him when she tells him the truth of what she remembers – or if she's already lost him by pushing him beyond some point where he could deal – then everything she wants from life will be denied her.

And wow - doesn't that just makes her next course of action seem both blindingly obvious and effortlessly easy.

All she has to do is simply strip off her own clothes.

And when she's as bare as he his she climbs into the tub with him, and she drapes her slender body over his – wincing as the scalding water now hits her before it's allowed to get to him.

Because whatever punishment he's raining down upon himself with this – maybe she can prove to him she loves him in her willingness to take it first.


	5. Chapter 5

He's so stunned when he registers what it is that she's just done that for a long, long moment Castle simply doesn't move – he doesn't even dare to breathe.

But oh god, how does he ignore the knowledge that it's Kate's body above him? That it's her pale perfect skin covering his. Protecting him.

The novelist knows he's been sitting in the tub here now for hours, and while he might have gotten in here pretty drunk – and desperately wanting to just expunge everything about tonight, just erase the sin of it from his soul, from his very skin – hours later he's actually pretty sober.

And sore, still feeling totally unclean and somewhere between outright fury and absolutely numb.

And he cannot fathom out the how or the why of Kate even being here at all, but God – just seeing her right now has to be the purest and most torturous form of pain – ever.

He feels her shift minutely, and a tiny, tiny gasp escapes from her. It registers in his brain as a sound of distress, of pain. He can't stand it – he can't stand any of it – so he reaches around behind her and he shuts the water off once more.

Then he lifts her off of him – and he get's out of the tub.

* * *

Kate's immensely relieved when he finally moves and shuts off the shower spray. Her back stings, feels a little raw from it, even though the high temperature was almost beginning to feel soothing.

She's about to speak, to try to break through the barrier of the oppressive silence between – but she can't come up with anything to say. And then Castle moves past her, leaving her sidelined on on the side of the tub behind him and the reveal of more of his naked form truly does steal every word she could come up with and just spirits them all away.

He stands nude with his back to her in front of the bathroom door, and the gorgeous long line of him, the endless expanse of his shoulders sends heat curling throughout her in the most delicious of ways.

"Castle?"

His shoulders sag with the sound of her voice, and then he hides himself from her – snagging a white terry cloth robe from the hook next to the door and shrugging it on. She sees him hesitate, and then he pulls down the second one and without looking back he holds it out for her.

She contemplates for a moment just refusing it – hoping to shock him into conversation by remaining bared as she is to him, but there's something too disturbing about the set of his shoulders right now, and his continued silence – so instead she takes the proffered robe and she dons it. And when he exits the bathroom - Kate just follows him.

The writer wanders aimlessly about the hotel room and she gets more perturbed by it every minute, wonders if it's because he's been drinking that he's acting out this way, but then he throws her for a loop again – because there isn't a trace of alcohol slurring his words when he breaks his silence and speaks to her.

"Why did you come looking for me?" he asks her calmly. He's finally picked a spot in the room to settle himself down it seems. As far from her as he can realistically get, Castle stands by the window, his face obscured by shadows as he stares out away from her and into the early morning light.

So she seats herself deliberately in the center of the room – on the huge bed, and she answers him.

"I was woken up when I got a call from Alexis."

Even through the shadows she can see his eyes close.

"I forgot to call her," he says. "I'm sorry."

Kate shakes it off.

"You don't have to be sorry Castle. I'm glad she called me . . . I'm your partner. I'm the one she should be calling to go out looking for you."

She hopes he hears the truth of it in her words, her desire to understand all of this – to make things right between them again.

"No," he says. Denying her. "No she shouldn't. I'll ensure it doesn't happen again."

He sounds so final.

"Rick . . . " she protests.

"Beckett – please just go."

The cop shakes her head in refusal.

"Not gonna happen Castle. No matter how much you try to shut me down - we have to talk about this," she demands.

He spins around to face her then.

"Talk?" he spits at her. "Talk about what? Huh? We don't 'talk' Beckett. We never talk – we just keep on sinning in silence and you must have figured out by now that I'm over it."

This is the second time he's used that expression with her recently – but Kate doesn't dwell on that – because he's wrong – at least right now he is, because they are talking.

"You're right," she agrees. "We do fail to communicate in words sometimes. But I'm here right now Castle. Hell, I just climbed into that tub with you stark naked – to stop you from hurting yourself. And like it or not partner – we _are_ going to talk about that."

She sees his jaw tighten, holding back from her – stubbornly holding all the words in.

* * *

She has got to be kidding him right? The universe has got to be kidding him. Four years of subtext and avoidance and tonight – tonight – she has to corner them into this?

He suddenly feels like he should have seen it coming.

Mutely he studies her . Notes her pale, tired, gorgeous face framed by an utter abundance of dark, damp hair. Admires her endless legs that are curled up on the bed beneath her and in any other circumstances, knowing she's wearing nothing beneath that white robe – this would seem a fantasy.

But he's forever denied that now, because he can't deny her what she's done for him tonight, how she came for him – in fact it's those very actions that are beginning to make him suspect he may have been very wrong about her.

Which means he'll be the one responsible now for what finally breaks them – and isn't that . . . ironic.

He'd just been so convinced she lied to him because she didn't love him – why did he never have the courage to ask her? And now with what he's done to that love tonight; how he's blown it up and destroyed it (even though she doesn't know it yet), in the pale light of the encroaching morning . . . Castle's despair finally forces his courage to find him.

"Okay," he tells her. "You want talk about things? Then we'll have to go further back than tonight Kate. In fact we have to go a long way back – how about the day of your shooting huh? To those events you kept claiming not to remember. Do you want to talk about that?" he says.

It's like he's slapped her. But thank God he has – because all his recent turmoil suddenly sharpens into focus for Kate, and the detective understands the awful truth of this – that he knows.

He knows all about the lies she's told.

"Oh God . . . Castle . . . I'm so sorry. I'm so, so . . . sorry," she whispers. "I lied to you – I won't deny that."

Her partner drops his head.

"I just wasn't ready," she hurries to explain. "I wasn't ready to let you in Rick. I was scared I'd ruin things if I did it wrong . . . and then I'd lose you."

He takes the risk and looks into her eyes across the room.

"I thought . . . " he begins shakily.

"You thought I lied about it because I didn't love you," she finishes for him.

Castle nods - because she's nailed it and really - what is there for him to say?

"You thought wrong," Kate says strongly. "You thought completely, completely wrong Castle. I . . ."

_So he was wrong_.

Oh his heart is dying now. Bleeding out. What a fool he was to think it was dead before. If only he'd just asked her. If only they'd just talked then.

"Kate," he chokes out. "Stop . . . stop Kate."

She reaches out her hand for him, but he cannot take it. In fact he's convinced once he tells her what really went on here tonight he'll never be permitted to touch her ever again. He's betrayed them.

"Castle?" she questions.

Oh he's so sorry. He's so infinitely sorry. _Oh Kate._ Can she see it in his eyes? Can she?

His voice is broken, unrecognizable.

"Kate I . . . I slept with her."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you guys for your continued support of this madness – love you all for it. And before you ask - no we apparently still aren't done.  
**

* * *

"_Kate I . . . I slept with her."_

* * *

Oh. . . God!

Her mouth falls open, but in this moment – in this awful, painful, broken moment – she can't find any words in her head to say to him in response to that.

And Castle's looking at her like he just confessed to a murder.

Torture leaking from his eyes, apology spilling silently from his lips – he's crumbling completely in front of her – just destroyed about this.

Kate swallows heavily; forcing back the bile rising up from her suddenly churning stomach and she closes her eyes briefly – unable to hold onto all the turmoil in his gaze.

She senses more than she hears a single sob escape him – a sound of quiet agony that manages to ripple through the air. And then thankfully he's mercifully quiet.

Her mind scrambles rapidly, looking for an avenue of escape. Anything – she just needs a moment, just a distraction to buy her some processing time – some space to get it together so she can act deliberately and not carelessly cause everything between them to fall to ruins here.

Thankfully her thoughts manage to land upon Alexis. And the girl's image is like a lifeline.

Eyes flying open she ignores for the moment his doubled over form and instead she darts back inside the bathroom. Castle must think she's leaving him or throwing up or something because another sob suddenly escapes him, but she makes herself concentrate fully on locating her cell phone from within the hasty pile of her discarded clothes instead.

With it secured safely inside a hand that's slightly trembling, Kate approaches the writer swiftly, forcing herself to reach out and touch him. She tips his face up so that she can look at him while she ruthlessly suppresses all the emotions that rise up inside her at what she witnesses written there first hand – devastation. She has to take a breath around it, and then exert a monumental effort of will to squash the desire to kiss away all the damp evidence of that emotion that's clinging to his eyelashes; because they kill her – his tears and this isn't the time for that.

_May never be the time for that._

"Castle, you need to call your daughter," she tells him firmly, but softly. "I promised her I'd call her once I found you, but I think it might just be better if you do it now instead."

She holds her iphone out to him calmly.

Her partner takes a large gulp of air and then nods just once briefly, his large warm fingers not daring to even brush against her skin as he takes the proffered device slowly from her outstretched hand. He straightens himself up to his full height though and then he moves quickly past her – slipping into the bathroom for some privacy and leaving Kate on the other side of a physical barrier between them once more when he quietly closes the door.

Drained and exhausted, the cop finds her knees are shaking, so she sits back down again on the huge and now mockingly 'made' bed - because where the hell did they do it? Against the God damn wall? And that awful thought has her head dropping down heavily into the welcoming darkness and small cradle of her slight strong hands.

And it's right then that it all really begins to hit her, and suddenly everything is just . . . shaking.

It's like there's an earthquake within her body with its epicenter at her heart. Agony rips outwards from that location as Kate's mind helplessly conjures vivid pornographic images to taunt and tease her with. She can't help but see it clearly – Castle and Blondie . . . against the wall. Jealousy roars to life - rears itself swiftly. A hungry beast that clambers up through all of her layers - from way down deep inside her soul, and it's jealousy she knows, even understands that she has no right too – technically he's completely free. But somehow everything is made more painful because of that, and the nasty green monster bites into her heart viciously, tears out huge chunks that leave her bleeding - her beliefs eradicated just the same.

She can't be unaffected by his haunted five word confession. She can't, because she loves him too intensely and after what she's felt he'd promised her – _to wait_ – what he's done tonight _feels_ totally like a betrayal – and it's a deadly, deadly poison flowing greedily through her veins.

Fighting it off may prove to be impossible (that's terrifying); and so she's floundering seemingly unable to locate any strength at all against all this.

_Oh God. Castle what have you done?_

The pain is immobilizing.

Chest heaving, Kate sucks uselessly for air; she's struggling to breathe like she's drowning when she really wants so badly to be the strong one here – strong enough to bear this for both of them. She's always the strong one. Always the one who acts rationally and calmly, and instead she's . . .

* * *

The author emerges at length from the bathroom to finding Kate sobbing her heart out in almost complete silence as she lies all curled in on herself, face down on the hotel room bed.

_Oh no - Kate. No._

It's such a shockingly unexpected sight it's like a bullet straight through his brain. The depths to which he's so obviously under-estimated what it is that he means to her is becoming evermore tragically evident as he stumbles forward; pulled empathically towards her, summoned somehow to join her on the bed.

Everything within him reaches out for her, demands the feel of her slight form in his arms, pulled tightly against his heart. Every part of him wants – _needs_** – **demands that she should be close to him.

But he doesn't have any right to soothe that yearning within him now does he? He's forfeited everything he'd considered his now. So he falters when he reaches the edge of the mattress and he sinks down onto his knees on the floor right beside her instead.

Every heave of her shoulders is death to him – but where on earth is he going to find any words to make this all go away?

But he has to try.

The author's voice craps out on him on his initial attempt to at least say her name, and he inwardly curses himself to everlasting hell for this – before he manages to find the strength of will to try again.

"Kate?" he whimpers. "I didn't mean it . . . I swear I didn't mean it. Please Kate."

He can't see her face but he knows somehow she cringes, and before he can stop himself he's just saying things again.

"Please – you have to listen . . . I didn't . . . I _don't_ want her, Kate. I never wanted her. I wanted you. I called out for _you_."

And now he's burdened her with that. He's an idiot – he's such an idiot.

She seems to agree with him because her sobs intensify.

Her misery rips the next words right out of him. "I love you, Kate."

One thing – just one thing is evident to Castle right now - he's pretty crystal damn clear on how very, very pathetic he must sound.

Except of course he means every single word. And it's all perfectly, honestly true. And though there have never been proper declarations between them – for the first time in his life Castle's exactly where he'd sworn never to go. Because it makes no difference that they aren't married – he's become an adulterer in his own eyes now just the same.

"Forgive me," he begs her brokenly. "Forgive me for doing this to us. God – Kate you have to say something. Please Kate, just talk to me before I go insane."

His fingers are itching to touch her and he tries to hold it back, tries so hard to allow her to be the one to move – the one to initiate contact. But then he remembers what she did to get through to him back in the bathroom, and he rests his hand carefully on her shoulder. Finds her breathing suddenly eases a little when he dares to tangle up his long fingers in the wet curls of her hair.

She mumbles something incoherent into the comforter, but he cannot really hear it. Thankfully she raises her head before he can ask her to say it all over again.

Her tear-stained lovely face comes into view and he sees her fighting with everything she has not to jerk completely away from him – it's horrible to watch but he can't help but be glad when she allows herself to rest her head against his hand.

"Kate . . . " He speaks her name uncertainly – like his right to it has forever been taken away. Then he makes himself wait for her silently – knowing that their fate is entirely out of his hands.

He sees her swallowing, and Castle fears he never wants to hear these words. But as she ever has - she blindsides him.

"What you gave away wasn't yours to dispose of," she tells him brokenly.

What is she talking about? He doesn't understand, he can't fathom – he just looks at her like he's being hunted. And then in a sudden surge of movement she's down off of the bed and she's there on the floor next to him. And then she's demanding, and she's insistent, and she's pushing past everything that must urge her to leave him and his partner is locking herself up in his arms instead.

"Kate?" he whispers, burying his head against her hair, holding her to him too tightly.

"You gave away your body Castle . . . but you belong to me."


	7. Chapter 7

_"You gave away your body Castle . . . but you belong to me."_

* * *

They hold onto each for endless minutes that seem to stretch out before them. Kate for her part simply cannot let him go. Everything she's held in – held back - this last year, all the denials she's forced herself to make, they anchor her against him now, becoming the driving force behind her need to stake her claim.

It's Castle who pulls back at length, just enough so that he can look down forlornly at her tear-stained face. He watches her silently, apparently rendered speechless in the wake of her declaration, and Kate finds herself scanning his face waiting, hoping for any indication that will tell her the words have sunk in. Aching for the sound of his voice once more, needing just to hear him say her name, the pain in her chest finally eases up a fraction when he manages just the faintest of trembling, watery smiles to form on his face.

"Kate," he breathes softly, "I am. I am – yours," he affirms, before the tiny smile fades away completely and his prior torture reawakens in his gaze.

"I'm so sorry," he says, his voice catching, tripping on the words. "I'm so sorry I . . ."

She silences his apology with her fingertips. "Shhhh,you don't have to say that," she admonishes him. "I don't need to hear you say it Castle – this isn't just your fault you know." His head drops to his chest then and his hold on her loses all of its strength. He eases out from under her gently and pushes to his feet, and it's the distance he's suddenly erecting between them again that pulls her up off of her knees.

"Castle?" she calls.

He turns his back on her.

"Castle . . . Look at me," she commands.

His shoulders slumped he turns back around.

"You asked me to forgive you Castle. You said you loved me, said that you needed me. Rick you just admitted that when you were with her you called out for me," she says and her partner nods.

"I did, and I _need_ you to forgive me Kate, but that forgiveness isn't going to make this go away," he says wearily. "I feel . . ."

"What?" She asks. "You feel what?"

He sits down heavily on the bed, and she drops down into a crouch in front of him, anxious to keep her eyes on his face.

"Talk to me," she pleads, wanting to take a hold of his hand, but resisting. "Tell me what's going on in your head, Castle please . . ."

He struggles very clearly for a moment, whether it's with what to say or whether he can look at her while he says it, she really can't decide. In the end however he sighs, keeps his eyes away from hers and it bursts out of him.

"You'll never, ever – I mean how could you, ever look at me the same," he replies.

"I don't understand . . ."

"Kate – face it. I cheated on you," he almost shouts. "I betrayed us. I betrayed you and any trust you had in me, all because I was mad. I was so mad at you and I was hurting so badly, but that still doesn't excuse the fact I'd as good as promised to wait for you. I was happy to wait, and then I found out you lied and I just . . . "

He stops talking around a choking sob, can't seem to get any more words out.

"Broke," she finishes for him. "You broke Rick, and it's not . . . I did that," she adds.

He shakes his head vehemently. "Yes, but . . ."

She grabs his hands. "No. No buts, Castle. No buts. You have to place an equal share of the blame for this on me – you have to Rick. If we're sitting in the ashes now, you know we burned our dreams down to the ground together."

The writer looks at her again finally, his piercing blue eyes studying her hazel-green ones, looking for absolution there, and it's hard, so very hard to keep her feelings of betrayal off of her face. But she has to, she has to, she can't let this destroy them – this has to be the start she realizes, the new beginning – and not the bitter end.

Rightly or wrongly it makes her feel sick, it does - what he's done here in this room tonight. But sick to her stomach she can live with. Whereas a world without him in it, she just cannot.

And it finally seems very simple then - to tell him, (although surely he must already know now), what he still needs to hear.

"I love you," she whispers to him, "I love you too, Castle."

Her partner's blue eyes widen, as her words sink in, hit home. And a bright spark of hope springs to life in their endless depths. She can tell he wants desperately to believe her, wants as much as she does for them to find a way forward _together _from here.

"I'll do _anything _to make this up to you," he says shakily, "anything Kate - anything you want me to."

She smiles then, and though it surprises her she doesn't have to force it, it comes easily, as does what she tells him next because it's just the truth.

"All I ever want is you."

"Me? You want me - still?" he asks, his large hands flipping over beneath her palms, and gripping onto hers so tight he's almost crushing them.

Kate nods. "Always," she whispers, pulling their joined hands towards her so his grip loosens, brushing the barest kiss across his knuckles, "always Rick, that hasn't changed."

She comes up on her knees, leans in and rests her forehead against his chest, feels him lower his head into the crook of her neck, feels him breathe her in.

"So what do we do now Kate?" he whispers sadly. "How do we move on from here?"

She knows of only one answer to that question, only one thing that can take them both beyond this and make them whole again. It seems crazy and foolish and rushing things and yet that fire, that need – she knows undoubtedly they are all that can sweep everything else away.

She wonders if she can make him understand this.

"Come home with me," she answers him.

He gasps into her ear before a tremor ripples through him.

**"**Kate, " he murmurs, "Kate I . . . "

She turns her face into his, breathes her pleas across his lips.

"Please, you said you'd do anything Castle, anything I could want."

He nods. "But you want . . . Kate you really want - " he stops, staring into her like he's convinced she's crazy, or that he's hallucinating or something.

"To make love with you . . ."

But apparently, he's not.

* * *

Kate drives them home.

He watches her as she slips the deadbolt on her front door closed with hands that should rightly be shaking but aren't, and he's astounded because she's demonstrating no nerves, not a whisper of apprehension about what she's so consciously decided they need to do.

Meanwhile he stands in the center of her living room visibly vibrating with all the doubts she doesn't appear to feel. He was serious when he told her he'd do anything, anything at all to make this up to her, but he never expected this to be the 'thing'. Honestly he expected her to ask for space from him, space and time. But she walks towards him calmly instead, and taking his trembling hand in hers, she tows him along behind her - into her bedroom.

Morning has fully arrived now, he can almost, almost feel it chasing the dark horror of the night before away. Kate lets it all into the room with them, startling him as she boldly throws open every blind. The bright sunlight streams into the private spaces around them, illuminating the only part of her home she's never shared with him before now, and he blinks in the brightness.

**"**So much light," he murmurs.

And she turns from the window to smile shyly at him, so ethereally beautiful in the sunrise that all he can do is stare at her mesmerized, because how could he ever have thought for a second that his dreams of loving her had died?

"No more obfuscation between us Castle," she whispers to him, "we'll love in the daylight, where there's nothing to hide."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: My debt is paid Ms. Kimmiesjoy ;-) Well in part at least (grins).**

* * *

_"We'll love in the daylight, where there's nothing to hide."_

* * *

Castle's looking at her with astonishment in his gaze, love, amazement – and doubt.

It's the doubt that absolutely kills her.

The uncertainty hovering there is not a good look on her partner. It brings out the boyishness of his features for sure, but his astonishing eyes get this scary vulnerable sheen to them that she absolutely abhors. She likes her Castle brash, cocky, confident and challenging, it's her intention now to bring back the preferred version of this man she adores.

He seems to be rooted to the spot he's occupying on the far side of her bedroom, watching her every movement closely, cataloging and reading her the way that he does, but he makes no movements of his own, he doesn't come to her.

Internally Kate sighs; she can't help it, nothing about this moment is the way she ever thought it would go.

In her fantasies he was always the pushy one. Crashing them through the bedroom entrance, and not making it as far as the bed to begin with, he'd just crowd her up against the wall or the door. Make her take notice of the size and the unbridled strength of him, engulfing her with his body as he sought to make her moan and scream.

For a second she closes her eyes and let's herself mourn that image she's always held for them, of their passion for each other just one day carrying them freely away – effortlessly and inevitably when their timing was finally right.

She mourns that, because everything about the timing of this is wrong, and yet it's the one thing, the only thing, that she _knows_ can make everything that's gone wrong for them here now go right.

And if she knows and he's uncertain, then everything that should happen now can only be created by her.

So Kate goes to him.

She steps into him, so close their bodies are brushing against each other, and she looks up into his somber face her right hand rising to cup his jaw, her fingertips trailing gently over the stubble on his cheek.

His lids flutter closed at her caress but the muscles in his jaw jump and twitch, tension fills his frame until he's subtly vibrating with it, and she draws from all of this just how much of himself he's holding in check.

And she understands that, the why and the how of him holding his responses in, she'll have to draw them from him slowly, remake and reshape him – until he no longer holds back because he's hers.

She slides his leather jacket off his shoulders, down the length of his arms and tugs it free, and his bright eyes slowly open for her. The hesitancy is still written within them plainly and it urges her up, up onto her toes until she can reach to try and kiss it off his face. She kisses him sweetly, without urgency, just the soft insistence of her mouth against his, the press of her tongue seeking entrance, so persuasive that he finally gives.

Kate gasps into his mouth as he tentatively responds to her, her heart rate soaring as her skin flushes with heat. He's anything but confident though, with a strange shyness to his responses that belie everything she knows about his experience with this.

No hint of the suave playboy exists.

His mouth almost trembles beneath hers, as if he can't believe it, as if everything is new, and the strangest part is – it is. It's a first proper kiss, and a last first kiss and everything in between, as a rising tide of emotion has her arms wrapping themselves around his neck as he finally moves to touch her and his fingers delve into the tangled mass of her hair.

It holds them for minutes.

Long minutes were they lose themselves in the simplicity of this – of just speaking their love to each other in a soundless way. Kate molds herself to him, presses her body desperately onto his, revels in the broad expanse of him as fire rushes through her in a myriad of ways.

She could kiss him forever she thinks, and is almost content to, until she feels moisture on her face in the most distressing of ways. Opening her eyes and pulling her mouth back gently from him, Kate stares into eyes gone black with his desire, and yet now brimming with tears.

"Oh, Rick," she whispers, pulling his head towards her so she can kiss the leaking evidence of his distress away.

"Tell me what's upsetting you – please?"

He closes the distance between them again, rather than answering right away, and this time his mouth is fierce on hers, his tongue insistent as he himself pushes past his trepidation and gives himself permission to just take from her what he needs.

When he pulls back they're both breathless, and Kate for her part is trembling. Every part of her body is singing and riotously alive, aware of him in ways she has always previously denied. The scent of him, warm and so familiar makes her heart race now, the taste of his kiss has become heroin streaming into her veins.

High, so high on him she already is.

"It wasn't like this," he mumbles against her lips. "It was nothing like this, it was just about the physical completion, there was no love Kate – no tender, aching, desperate need."

She looks into his eyes, so close with his face against hers this way, sees both truth and sorrow beaming from his gaze.

"With . . ." she can't even say it.

Castle doesn't need the words from her, (just her comprehension) he can't even say it himself, and so he just nods.

"So much need for you all tangled up into it, loss, desperation, heartbreak. Kate all of it just breaking me apart while everything about her felt wrong and kept reminding me it was always supposed to be you in my arms instead."

Drops of salt water slip from each of his eyes and Kate catches them with her lips, absorbing his pain as she does so, accepting him.

"It is me in your arms now Castle. It's me, and I'll never let you go," she promises.

Slipping back down his body slightly she starts on the buttons of his shirt, looking him directly in the eyes as she does so. She peels the fabric off his torso, startled by the wanton rush between her thighs at the mere sight of his skin again, and this time she can openly allow herself the time to truly _look._

Greedily her hands join her eyes in exploration. Her palms splay flat on his chest, loving the heat beneath her fingers as she maps the contours of his chest, revels in the way his muscles play beneath her every touch.

She's so absorbed by him that she fails to notice the hesitation finally begin to fade in his eyes, replaced by an expression of devotion instead.

His large hands come to rest gently at her waist but he goes no further, just holds her there while she caresses him.

When she reaches for the buckle on his belt, undoes it and begins to tug it free he stills her movements with his fingers, wraps her slender digits in his and she looks up into his face immediately.

"Kate-"he breathes. "Are you sure? Are you completely sure you want to do this? We don't need to-"

But she cuts him off.

"I need," she says firmly. "Castle I need this, I need all of this – all of you."

And she lets him see it then, as she pushes her face a little closer, staring into his soul through his eyes. She lets him see everything she normally keeps hidden, locked away so deep inside. Her love, her adoration, her deep longing for him fill up her face, flow out of her and into him, until he cannot doubt this, cannot hesitate, can only respond to it - can only give in.

He lets her fingers go again, lets her remove his belt while he unbuttons her shirt instead, and for the second time this morning the fabric baring them from each other is allowed to simply drop away.

There is confidence slowly creeping back into him now, as he tugs her nude form into his arms and Kate's heart leaps as she recognizes it. Smiles against his neck as his hands start exploring the nakedness of her with abandon, signaling so very clearly his desire to give her everything.

She kisses her way down his throat and then lets him do the same, he stops at the rapidly thumping vein in her neck, adores it with his tongue – the frantic pulsing accelerates as he moves on to the high sweet curve of her breast, and when he takes her nipple into his mouth it grows wilder still.

Pleasure stabs through her as he suckles, followed by an equally tantalizing spark of pain as his teeth graze the tortured tip.

"Oh God," she groans, "Oh God, oh . . . Rick-"

It's so good, and she knows somehow, even delights in it when he smiles against her skin.

Flooded with feeling Kate clings onto his shoulders, legs shaking precariously as he reaches suddenly into the hot wetness beginning to coat her silken thighs. He raises his mouth to kiss her ferociously, harsh and commanding now as he seeks the hidden nub and circles it, slipping first one and then a second long finger deep inside.

She feels her body clench around the invasion helplessly, mesmerized by the swiftness with which he can have her already so close to breaking, then Castle presses with his thumb against her and she calls out as she convulses; his kiss gentling as he absorbs every single one of her ecstatic cries.

He lifts her up into his arms while she's still trembling, deposits her and then himself upon the covers of her bed. Lies watching her come back to him, instead of taking her right then. Breathless he waits for her, amazed and astounded that after everything that happened yesterday she should be here now like this, so open and forgiving and so in love it seems.

"Please," she whispers to him. "Please don't stop – must have all of you," she's pleading, her dark eyes dancing with a consuming fire that calls out for him. And only him.

But there is no going back from this.

No retreat, or holding pattern or waiting once this is begun for them. So even as he smiles down into her flushed face, bends to kiss her soft and oh so sweetly, even as she shifts until she's beneath him and he falls naturally into the cradle of her thighs - even then, he still has to make quite sure. Trapped in his throat the words appear on his lips and in his eyes, questions all held unspoken but conveyed clearly to her – so clearly that Kate verbally replies.

"No. I have no misgivings Castle, I love you and I want you and you can take me now."

She prays he can sense it, the passion she feels for him behind each word, and when his mouth quirks she knows he gets it, and she thrills inside when his smile finally gets a little cocky, his eyes lighting his face a little smug. Instead of joining them however he slides down her quivering body instead, his broad shoulders pushing against her legs until he wedges her thighs wide.

Planning on driving her demented, forcing her to fly again for him before he actually gives in.

But before he can lower his mouth to her he spies it, tiny dancing script, elegant and black against the porcelain of her pale body, it's inked against her hipbone and as Castle reads it she completely floors him, takes his control and shreds it, makes him fall in love with her all over again.

''**If you want peace, fight for justice'.**

It's Derek Storm's mantra on Kate Beckett's skin.

_His_ words, inscribed upon _her_ body, inspiring her as she's in turn served to inspire him.

He looks up at her wide-eyed and speechless and suddenly there's no more delaying his gratification, there's just an over-riding need to join with her, to morph them from separate individuals into something united forever, the truest version all that exists between them.

She reads the change in his demeanor instantly, knows what discovery he's made and so she smiles beatifically down into his startled eyes, elated to share another layer of herself, to reveal this other secret she's kept in such a way as this – finally.

"I love you," she explains simply, and with the tiniest shrug of her shoulders, and Castle feels himself comprehend that truly in this moment, lets it become a part of his story - their story, how much he's always meant to her. How when she was floundering, teetering and wounded, she found her solace in him.

"I . . ." he stumbles, trying to find a way to explain the emotions rolling through his soul, at once thrilled and terrified by the intimacy between now, the sharp pierce of her love as it fills him to the brim.

But there are no words that could ever convey what she means, what her love means, how he's all-

Her voice quakes, "mine," she says, and her small strong hand wraps around the hard press of him.

"Mine," he echoes nodding, as he surges upwards towards her entrance, feels the strength of her long legs as they wrap lovingly around his body and he rejoices as she arches, ecstatic when he joins them.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: You mentioned something about 'actual' sex Kimmie? Hmmm, here you go:D**

**Also I apologize for the delay – my sister is visiting me and I've not seen her in 18 months so of course my priority right now is my 'mei mei', I love you RC.**

* * *

_"Mine," he echoes nodding, as he surges upwards towards her entrance, feels the strength of her long legs as they wrap lovingly around his body and he rejoices as she arches, ecstatic when he joins them._

* * *

One thrust, just one slide of his body inside of hers and she's reeling from the pure fulfillment of it. Every sensation suddenly slamming into her consciousness like battering rams, each of them vying for her attention and her brain doesn't even know where to begin. She feels like she could short-out, explode, come – just from this.

There's so much to absorb, from the heat and the feel of his weight pressing her into the bed, to the hard muscles of his thighs as they pry her legs wide, to the incredible feel of him buried within her. It's all of it just . . . oh my God.

A little dazed her gaze seeks his. Finds the same stunned expression she just knows she's wearing etched heavily into his features; his pupils are so dilated his eyes have gone black with desire now and it sends excited, delicious ripples down her the length of her spine.

* * *

Wow.

That's about the most articulate description his poor over-taxed brain can come up with, and it doesn't even come close to making sense of how she feels all around him, how nothing in his experience has ever come close to this - to the wet heat of Kate. The tight snugness of her sheath as it wraps around his eager body, gripping him firmly in a lovers caress. The gorgeous arching line of her torso and her limbs as she offers herself so freely to him, gives to him so unstintingly that which he's so very long now wished to claim.

She's his. His now, in the most fundamental way a woman can be, and its not like anything before it, and he knows nothing like it will ever come his way again. For him, just as he's long suspected – she is as perfect and as precious as it's ever going to get.

He's . . . done.

His body wants him to move but his brain overrules it, wants to draw out this moment and he stares down at her splayed beneath him lovingly. Marvels at her, at this, at her generous and easy forgiveness of him, and feels his eyes growing wet.

* * *

His expression changes very slowly. First from lust to love, and then slowly to complete adoration, devotion, the changes communicating his thought processes as clearly as if he were speaking aloud to her. Kate can tell he's completely overwhelmed by her right now, at her so actively wanting this - him – after everything that's just happened. The depth of his love for her is staggering. Just floods out of his eyes, swirling around her body, penetrating through her skin and into her soul and Kate hoards it to her greedily. Rejoices in it fully – because how can she do anything else? How many people are ever lucky enough to be loved in this way?

She prays he can feel her giving it back to him with the same intensity, because she may already have told him, shown him, tried to make him understand, but it's only right now, with him physically merged with her that she's beginning to feel him accepting that this is honestly, truthfully where she's longed to be.

Her body is tingling and responsive to his every touch and look and she desperately wants him to move, mark her, push her to her peak and beyond it, but Castle just lowers his mouth over hers again and stills her for a moment, once more asks her plainly for her forgiveness with his tongue against her lips.

Shaking she quells her desire with difficulty, leashes the wild beast momentarily to again give to her partner whatever he seeks.

She skates her fingers slowly up over his biceps, pauses for a single moment to dwell on the amazing feel of the hard muscle of them, to delight in it, before she continues to map him, up over his wide shoulders, finally fisting them into his soft hair. She kisses him back deeply, for long moments her mouth as soft and tender as his and then she's overwhelmed by a single tiny twitch of his hips, an almost helpless thrust and the tightly held rein on her own longing snaps. All at once the movements of her mouth become very suggestive, turn aggressive, and her body undulates beneath his, moving them against each other forcefully until he breaks from his stillness, his tender contemplation and she smiles into him as he's lured into taking over again.

* * *

He can no longer resist the siren call of her body as it pleads with him now so loudly, each shift and twist of her beckoning to his lust, summoning him to come out and play with her. It's the sexiest, the most erotic moment of his life, the desperate, wanton lunge of her against him. She's like kerosene on an already blazing fire. Her blatant needs igniting something so primal and lawless within him that his gentleness evaporates in the onslaught of flames.

Her skin beneath his palms feels scorching, and he manhandles her right thigh, pulling it higher against the crush of his body, opening her even more fully, allowing him to sink into her another inch or so. Kate gasps, and her eyes slam shut as he gains that extra amount of penetration and he wonders fleetingly if he could have hurt her, but then she grasps his ass hard and instead pulls him further into her than he thought he could possibly go.

She breaks from the heat of their kiss to bite his earlobe and hiss at him, "Move-"

He complies.

He pulls back until only the very tip of him remains inside her, teasing her for just a second before he puts all his weight behind it as he thrusts back in. A breathy moan pushes out of her, just the tiniest of glorious sounds, but it causes a full body shudder to go right through him and the writer instantly needs to hear it again.

He repeats his previous motion, the slow and agonizing withdrawal followed by the mighty thrust back home, thrilled when he is rewarded once more with the same ecstatic little noise, the same pull of her palms against his ass tugging him back inside her.

"Harder," she pleads, biting the underside of his jaw now, before she latches her teeth onto the upper swell of his left pectoral.

"Harder Castle." To illustrate her point she bites him again and his hips comply with her request without his conscious assistance. Two, three thrusts of his body as quick and hard as he can move it and she comes with a wild abandon he's never seen before. He's had loud women, quiet women, wanton women, but Kate – Kate is untamed.

Her climax hurtles not just through her but through him as well, a shock wave radiating out in concentric circles as her body bows her eyes slam shut and every part of her trembles with it.

Its almost too much for his control to take and his own orgasm coils at the base of his spine, another couple of sloppy thrusts and he'd spill himself within her, and it's about to happen when her eyes open and he's so stunned by everything contained in the emerald of her gaze that he simply stops dead and stares. Inert. He can't move.

Joy.

Happiness such as he's never witnessed on anyone, let alone the guarded woman he loves and yet it's clearly happiness, unmistakable and unbridled. Pure radiant joy as she stares up at him as her body calms, stops shaking and rippling around the hard length of him that's still buried inside her.

"Oh Castle," she whispers, and he's dazzled by it. By her, by all of this, the blinding obviousness of how fiercely and deeply and truly she loves him.

It makes him angry. So very, very angry at himself, at his sheer stupidity that he didn't continue to wait for this – that he lost his faith. That he didn't _know_ and now doesn't deserve.

He should have waited. He _should_ have known.

Should have seen the identical echo of his own love in her fathomless eyes, but he doubted – he doubted her and now . . .

* * *

For one scary second she doesn't know why her blissful state should be affecting him quite like this. He stilled to watch her come, stopped the wonderful movement of his body into hers and she freefall-ed through it, the pleasure unlike anything she's ever known. She came back to herself sated, needing his fulfillment now more than her own and wanting it badly, anxious to see it.

But her joy somehow isn't contagious and she's a terrified witness as his horror at what he's done once more threatens to overcome him. She sees the anger in his eyes, directed solely inward, sees him withdrawing, overcome by a sense of unworthiness.

No, no, no. She can't let it be like this, she can't let the perfection of how this is between them become a new source of pain.

He's entitled to feel as amazing as she does this minute; she needs him to join her on this plane of being can't let him pull back, not now, she couldn't bear it.

Kate launches her mouth at his, feverish and terrified, prayers, pleas falling helplessly from her lips.

"Love me," she begs. "Love me harder Castle. Don't you stop. Don't you ever, ever stop."

* * *

Her eyes have gone sad and fearful and it's this that breaks him. He cannot leach away the wondrousness of this moment for her by wallowing in how much he doesn't deserve it. Kate wants him, and anything she wants _from_ him is hers – whatever it is.

He'll give her his battered heart, his love, his life, his soul if she wants them – right now if it's his body she's craving he'll casts off the heavy chains of everything else that's happened and just give in.

He kisses her back, both their eyes wide open and locked together, and he moves again, driven, purposeful thrusts inside her. Seeking his own gratification now but barely for himself this is his gift to her – his Kate – because he knows it's what she's asking to see.

The climb once begun again is quick and steep, spiraling to heights only love could hope to plunder, the friction of their bodies sweet and intoxicating, and she fights against falling, wanting it, needing it only for him.

They peak together but she's aware this time, eyes boring into his when he stiffens, spills into her, falls down heavy into her waiting arms, and she almost bursts with the relief of knowing they're finally free.


End file.
